Book II (The Winning of Friends) — Mister Duly

In a certain city lived a merchant named Ocean. His son picked up a book at a sale for a hundred rupees. In this book was the line:

What’s duly his, a man receives.

Now Ocean saw it and asked his son: “My boy, what did you give for this book?” “A hundred rupees,” said the son. “Simpleton!” said Ocean, “if you pay a hundred rupees for a book with one line of poetry written in it, how do you calculate to make money? From this day you are not at home in my house.” After this wigging, he showed him the door.

This melancholy rebuff drove the young man to another country far away, where he came to a city and stopped there. After some days a native asked him: “Whence are you, sir? What might your name be?” And he replied:

“What’s duly his, a man receives.”

To a second inquirer he gave the same reply. Then on all who questioned him, he bestowed his stereotyped answer. This is how he came by his nickname of Mister Duly.

Now a princess named Moonlight, who was in the first flush of youth and beauty, stood one day with a girl friend, looking out over the city. At that spot a prince, extraordinarily handsome and charming, chanced to come—it was fate’s doing—within her range of vision. The moment she saw him, she was smitten by the arrows of Love, and said to her friend: “Dear girl, you must make an effort to bring us together this very day.”

So the friend went straight to him and said: “Moonlight sent me to you. She sends you this message: ‘The sight of you has reduced me to the last extremity of love. If you do not hasten to me, I shall die, nothing less.’”

On hearing this, he said: “If I cannot avoid the trip, please tell me how to get into the house.” And the friend said: “When night comes, you must climb up a stout strap that will be hanging from an upper story of the

palace.” And he replied: “If you have it all settled, I will do my part.” With this understanding the girl returned to Moonlight.

But when night came, the prince thought it over:

“A Brahman-slayer, so they say,

Is he who tries to house

With teacher’s child, or wife of friend, Or royal servant’s spouse.

And again:

A deed that brings dishonor, Whereby a man must fall, That causes disadvantage, Don’t do it—that is all.”

So after full reflection he did not go to her. But Mister Duly was roaming through the night and spied a strap hanging down the wall of a fine stucco house. Out of curiosity mingled with bravado he took hold and climbed.

Now the princess, being perfectly confident that he was the right man, treated him with high consideration, giving him a bath, a meal, a drink, fine garments, and the like. Then she went to bed with him, and her limbs thrilled with joy at touching him. But she said: “I fell in love with you at first sight, and have given you my person. I shall never have another husband, even mentally. Why don t you realize this and talk to me?” And he replied:

“What’s duly his, a man receives.”

When she heard this, her heart stopped beating, and she sent him down the strap in a hurry. So he made for a tumble-down temple and went to sleep. Presently a policeman who had an appointment with a woman of easy virtue arrived there and found him asleep. As the policeman wished to hush the matter up, he said: “Who are you?” and the other answered:

“What’s duly his, a man receives.”

When he heard this, the policeman said: “This temple is deserted. Go and sleep in my bed.” And he agreed, but made a blunder, lying down in the wrong bed. In that bed lay the policeman’s daughter, a big girl named Naughty, beautiful and young. She had made a date with a man she loved, and when she saw Mister Duly, she thought: “Here is my sweetheart.” So, her blunder due to the pitchy darkness of the night, she rose, gave herself in marriage by the ceremony used in heaven, then lay with him in bed, her lotus-eyes and lily-face ablossom. But she said: “Even yet you do not talk nicely with me. Why not?” And he replied:

“What’s duly his, a man receives.”

On hearing this, she thought: “This is what one gets for being careless.” So she gave him a sorrowful scolding and sent him packing.

As he walked along a business street, there approached a bridegroom named Fine-Fame. He came from another district and marched with a great whanging of tom-toms. So Mister Duly joined the procession. Since the happy moment was near at hand, the bride, a merchant’s daughter, was standing at the door of her father’s house near the highway. She stood on a raised step under an awning provided for the occasion, and displayed her wedding finery.

At this moment an elephant reached the spot, running amuck. He had killed his driver, had got beyond control, and the crowd was in a hubbub, everyone scared out of his wits. When the bridegroom’s parade caught a glimpse of him, they ran—the bridegroom, too—and started for the horizon.

In this crisis Mister Duly perceived the girl, all alone, her eyes dancing with terror, and with the words: “Don’t worry. I will save you,” manfully reassured her, put his right arm around her, and with enormous sang-froid gave the elephant a cruel scolding. And the elephant—it was fate’s doing— actually went away.

Presently Fine-Fame appeared with friends and relatives, too late for the wedding; for another man was holding his bride’s hand. At the sight of his

rival, he said: “Come, father-in-law! This is hardly respectable. You promised your daughter to me, then gave her to another man.” “Sir,” said the father-in-law, “I was frightened by the elephant, and I ran too. I came back with you gentlemen, and do not know what has been going on.”

Then he turned and questioned his daughter: “My darling girl, what you have been doing is scarcely the thing. Tell me what this business means.” And she replied: “This man saved me from deadly peril. So long as I live, no man but him shall hold my hand.”

When the story got abroad, dawn had come. And as a great crowd gathered in the early morning, the princess heard the story of events and came to the spot. The policeman’s daughter also, hearing what passed from lip to lip, visited the place. And the king in turn, learning of the gathering of a great crowd, arrived in person, and said to Mister Duly: “Speak without apprehension. What sort of business is this?” And Mister Duly said:

“What’s duly his, a man receives.”

Then the princess remembered, and she said: “This law not even God can break.”

Then the policeman’s daughter said:

“My heart is not surprised, nor grieves.”

And hearing all this, the merchant’s daughter said: “For what is mine, no strangers take.”

Then the king promised immunity to one and all, arrived at the truth by piecing their narratives together, and ended by respectfully giving Mister Duly his own daughter, together with a thousand villages. Then he bethought himself that he had no son, so he anointed Mister Duly crown prince. And the crown prince, together with his family, lived happily; for means of enjoyment were provided in great variety.

“And that is why I say:

What’s duly his, a man receives ... and the rest of it.” And Gold continued:

“After these reflections, I recovered from my money-madness. For there is much wisdom in this:

Not rank, but character, is birth;

It is not eyes, but wits, that see;

True learning ‘tis, to cease from wrong; Contentment is prosperity.

And again:

Yes, all prosperities are his, Whose heart is filled with mirth: The feet in leather sandals shod, Travel a leather earth.

A hundred leagues is naught to him Whose vehicle is greed:

To clasp the wealth that fingers touch Contentment has no need.

Since Vishnu, universal lord, Through thee a dwarf was made,

O manhood’s solvent, Greed divine, To thee be homage paid.

No feat is hard for thee, O Greed, Dishonor’s wedded dame,

Who, for the men of kindest heart, Preparest draughts of shame.

What man should never bear, I bore; I spoke and, speaking, lied;

I waited at the stranger’s door: O Greed, be satisfied!

And again:

I’ve drunk foul water; slept forlorn

On gathered bits of broken thorn;

I’ve lost my love, I’ve begged for alms, Enduring heart- and belly-qualms;

I’ve crossed the sea; I’ve walked afar;

I’ve treasured half a shattered jar:

Of further labors is there need?

Quick, damn you! Give your orders, Greed!

No poor man’s evidence is heard,

Though logic link it word to word:

While wealthy babble passes muster

Though crammed with harshness, vice, and bluster.

The wealthy, though of meanest birth, Are much respected on the earth: The poor whose lineage is prized Like clearest moonlight, are despised.

The wealthy are, however old, Rejuvenated by their gold:

If money has departed, then

The youngest lads are aged men.

Since brother, son, and wife, and friend Desert when cash is at an end, Returning when the cash rolls in,

“Tis cash that is our next of kin.

“At the moment when, with such thoughts in my mind, I went to my quarters, our friend Swift came to me and suggested a journey hither. So

here I am. I have come with him to visit you. Thus I have related to you the cause of my gloom.

“Well, there is this to be said:

The world—gods, elephants, and men, Deer, devils, snakes—

Before the noonday hour is spent,

Its dinner takes.

When hour and appetite arrive, There should suffice

For world-wide conqueror or slave A bowl of rice.

For this, what man of sense would do Base deeds perverse, Whose consequences drag him down From bad to worse?”

When he had listened to this, Slow began to offer consolation. “My dear fellow,” said he, “you must not lose heart at leaving your country. Intelligent as you are, why feel disturbed without occasion? Consider the

saying:

The merely learned is a fool;

The wise man uses action’s tool: For no remembered drug can cure The sick by name alone, ‘tis sure.

To brave and wise what land is strange, Or native? Whatsoever change

Befall, he makes the land his own

By strength of valiant arm alone:

The lion’s whim is jungle law

By strength of tooth and tail and claw;

He slaughters elephants for food, And slakes his servants’ thirst with blood.

“Therefore, my dear fellow, we must always be energetic. Where will money feel at home, or pleasures? You know the saying:

As frogs will find a drinking-hole, Or birds a brimming lake,

So friends and money seek a man Whose vigor does not break.

From another point of view:

The goddess Fortune seeks as home The brave and friendly man,

The grateful, righteous soul who does Each moment what he can,

Who regulates a sturdy life

Upon an active plan.

Or, put it this way:

The brave, wise, hopeful, and persistent, From tricks, freaks, meanness equidistant— If such there be,

And Fortune flee,

The joke on Fortune falls, insistent.

While, on the other hand:

If man be fatalist and slacker, Irresolute and sang-froid lacker, Him Fortune—as a bouncing miss Her aged lover—hates to kiss.

Abysmal learning does not aid To virtue those who are afraid:

As men with lamps no sooner find Lost objects, if those men are blind.

The prince becomes a beggar; By weak are slayers slain; The beggar ceases begging; When fate revolves again.

“Nor must you, in view of the aphorism, Since teeth and nails and men and hair, If out of place, are ugly there

draw the coward’s conclusion:

Let no man leave his native place.

“For to the competent there is no distinction between native and foreign land. You must have heard the saying:

Brave, learned, fair, Where’ er they roam, Without delay

Are quite at home.

The shrewdly valiant on the earth

Will always master money’s worth; Not those of godlike scholarship— “Tis certain—if they lose their grip.

“Today, no doubt, your purse is light. For all that, you are not in the position of the commonplace fellow, for you have sense and vigor. And the proverb says:

Let sturdy resolution guide,

And poor men touch the peak of pride; Let money fold in its embrace

The mean, they sink to lowly place: The lion’s majesty derives

From nature, rich because he strives To crown his feats with nobler feats. What golden-collared dog competes?

And again:

Some men compacted of self-rigor With valor, enterprise, and vigor Indifferently view the muddle

Of ocean and the petty puddle;

As at some wretched ant-hill, frown At Himalaya’s highest crown:

To these, not those who wait and see, Comes Fortune, tripping eagerly.

And once more:

Mount Meru is not very high Hell is not very low,

The sea not shoreless, if a man Abounding vigor show.

For, after all:

Why, wealthy, puff with pride? Why, poor, in gloom subside? Since, like a stricken ball, Men’s fortunes rise and fall.

In any case, remember that youth and wealth are unstable as water- bubbles. As the saying goes:

With shadows of the passing cloud,

New grain, and knavish friends,

With women’s love, and youth, and wealth, Enjoyment quickly ends.

This being so, if an intelligent man catches slippery money, let him make it fruitful, by giving it away or enjoying it. As the proverb tells us:

The coin that cost a hundred toils, That men are wont to cherish Beyond their life, will, if it be Not given to others, perish.

And again:

Bestow, or use your wealth for pleasure; If not, you hoard another’s treasure:

As in your home, your lovely girl Awaits a stranger—his dear pearl.

And once again:

The miser for another hoards His bags of needless money: The bees laboriously pack, But others taste the honey.

In any event, fate has the last word. As the proverb puts it: In weapon-bristling battle or at home,

In flaming fire, wild cave, or monstrous sea,

Among thanatophidian fangs elate,

The to-be is, is not the not-to-be.

Now you are healthy and enjoy peace of mind. This is the supreme possession. As the saying goes:

The lord of seven continents Beset by crawling greed,

Is but a beggar; he who lives Content, is rich indeed.

Besides, on this earth

No treasure equals charity; Content is perfect wealth;

No gem compares with character; No wish fulfilled, with health.

Nor must you think: ‘How can I survive, having lost my possessions?’ For money passes away, man’s character abides. There is a proverb to fit the case:

The noble man, indeed, may fall

To earth—like an elastic ball;

The coward who drops is down to stay, Is flattened like a ball of clay.

But why bore you? Here is the nub of duty. Certain men are born to enjoy the pleasures that money brings, certain others are born money’s guardians. There is a verse about it:

Your wealth will flee If fate decree,

Though it was fairly earned: So silly Soft,

When perched aloft

In that great forest, learned.”

“How was that?” asked Gold. And Slow told the story of

SOFT, THE WEAVER

In a certain town lived a weaver. His name was Soft, and he spent his time making garments dyed in various patterns, fit for such people as princes. But for all his labors, he could not collect a bit of money beyond food and clothes. Yet he saw other weavers, who made coarse fabrics, rolling in wealth, and he said to his wife: “Look at these fellows, my dear.

They make coarse stuff, but they earn heaps of money. This city does not offer me a decent living. I am going to move.”

“Oh, my dear,” said his wife, “it is a mistake to say that money comes to those who travel. There is a proverb:

What shall not be, will never be; What shall be, follows painlessly: The thing your fingers grasp, will flit, If fate has predetermined it.

And again:

A calf can find its mother cow Among a thousand kine:

So good or evil done, returns And whispers: ‘I am thine.’

And once again:

As shade and sunlight interbreed, So twined are Doer and his Deed. So stay here and mind your business.”

“You are mistaken, my dear,” said he. “No deed comes to fruition without effort. There is a proverb:

You cannot clap a single hand; Nor, effortless, do what you planned.

And again:

Although, at meal-time, fate provide A richly loaded plate, No food will reach the mouth, unless The hand co-operate.

And once again:

Through work, not wishes, every plan Its full fruition reaps:

No deer walk down the lion’s throat So long as lion sleeps.

And one last quotation:

Suppose he gave the best he had,

Yet no fruition came,

“Twas fate that blocked his efforts, not The man who was to blame.

I must go to another country.” So he went to Growing City, stayed three years, and started home with savings of three hundred gold-pieces.

In mid-journey, he found himself in a great forest when the blesséd sun went to rest. So, forethoughtful for his safety, he climbed upon a stout branch of a banyan tree and dozed. In the middle of the night, as he slept, he saw two human figures whose eyes were bloodshot with fury, and heard them abusing each other.

The first of them was saying: “Come now, Doer! You know you have, in every possible way, prevented this fellow Soft from getting any capital beyond food and clothes. So you have no right ever to let him have any. Why did you give him three hundred gold-pieces?”

“Now, Deed!” said the other, “I am constrained to give the enterprising a reward in proportion to their enterprise. The final consequence is your affair. Take it from him yourself.” On hearing this, Soft awoke and looked for his bag of gold.

When he found it empty, he thought: “Oh, dear! It was so much trouble to earn the money, and it went in a flash. I have had my work for nothing. I haven’t a thing. How can I look my wife in the face, or my friends?” So he made up his mind to return to Growing City. There he earned five hundred

gold-pieces in just one single year, and started home again by a different road.

When the sun went down, he came upon the very same banyan tree, and he thought: “Oh, oh, oh! What is fate up to—damn the brute! Here is that same fiendish old banyan tree once more.” But he dozed off on a branch, and saw the same two figures.

One of them was saying: “Doer, why did you give this fellow Soft five hundred gold-pieces? Don’t you know that he doesn’t get a thing beyond food and clothes?”

“Friend Deed,” said the other, “I am constrained to give to the enterprising. The final consequence is your affair. So why blame me?”

When poor Soft heard this, he looked for his bag and found it empty. This plunged him into the depths of gloom, and he thought: “Oh, dear! What good is life to me if I lose my money? I will just hang myself from this banyan tree and say goodbye to life.”

Having made up his mind, he wove a rope of spear-grass, adjusted it as a noose to his neck, climbed out a branch, fastened it, and was about to let himself drop, when one of the figures appeared in the sky and said: “Do not be so rash, Friend Soft; I am the person who takes your money, who does not allow you one cowrie beyond food and clothes. Now go home. But, that you may not have seen me without result, ask your heart’s desire.”

“In that case,” said Soft, “give me plenty of money.” “My good fellow,” said the other, “what will you do with money which you cannot enjoy or give away? For you are to have no use of it beyond food and clothes.”

But Soft replied: “Even if I get no use of it, still I want it. You know the proverb:

The man of capital, Though ugly and base-born,

Is honored by the world For charity forlorn.

And again:

Loose they are, yet tight; Fall, or stick, my dear?

I have watched them now Till the fifteenth year.”

“How was that?” asked the figure. And Soft told the story of